Maybe Something in the Water
by ValidEntry
Summary: Rachel must know Quinn's secret. But she might have a surprise for Quinn as well. Pure, pure, pure crack.
1. Chapter 1

I'm not exactly cocky. Not entirely Snow White material either. I'm a good for nothing that's great at pretending I'm the best around. Being this beast of contradictions keeps me grounded while allowing me to drift above this trap jawing at me from below. I've set myself close to the edge of disappointment so many times with her. I've threatened, cajoled, miscalculated, given in as a sign I've given up. She's that anchor that drags me down but I'm also that diver who emerges pale and shaky after she pulls me back to clear the surface again.

So I always wait for new openings from her. Or I create them for us. A last ditch effort to make her feel worthy on prom night - something Santana said might've been more effective if I'd shoved my cock so deep in her that I magically eliminated any need for her to have doubts. But orgasms flee as fast as her confidence. She doesn't work on that level, either. The one where she could justify cheating based on the depth of attraction between us. It's fairly buoyant, that connection we didn't so much create as watch happen to us as if marionettes on tipsy strings.

She accepted the train tickets graciously. I could easily discern that she was already fast calculating the quickest she could take that trip to New Haven without appearing too needy. Or too much like the girl who wanted to spend time researching and discovering a new place with her kind-of friend instead of planning her wedding.

I was in New Haven two days before she called. Equally anxious, wary, and trickling out words at lightning speed asking if the weekend would be too soon. She'd been in New York all summer, alone and wavering, and wouldn't it be really nice to catch up? Work through some of our "long standing issues?"

She had to know but she wasn't confessing. Her restraint was possibly admirable, though more than likely cause for concern. I'd been careful for the entirety of my existence but nothing will knock that the fuck right out of a person like glancing down to send a text and looking back up at the metallic lights of a hospital room. I was asleep even when awake. Only vaguely aware of her presence as she held my hand, rubbed my legs when they were particularly achy, dried tears I wasn't aware were dripping down my cheeks to her palm.

When I commented that my plumbing still worked, she'd flinched. Forced a crooked smile. Santana – all laser-eyed and loyalty bound to me – cocked an eyebrow in my direction before swinging her gaze to her. She figured it out, that's what Santana's grimace conveyed to me.

Maybe my hospital gown had lifted too high. Shifted in my restless turnings. Or she'd accidentally grazed it when her hands had trailed the length of my thighs, silently begging me to feel her touch when I simply couldn't even in the tangles of my imagination. However the cause, she'd not revealed the consequences of her discovery.

Weeks passed into months of mundane, cordial conversations between us. We were waiting for the distance. We'd be miles apart but closer than we've ever been. Because Lima was always a barrier that wouldn't allow for certain words to carry forth and ricochet from her to me. It would have to be New Haven that unlocked those gates and let the flood pour out.

In true fashion, she'd taken the earliest train out of New York. She was the girl who never squandered time. Her eyes failed to take in any part of me except the crotch of my jeans when she spotted me in the depot. The smile I flashed her faltered at her obviousness.

She was the girl who never squandered time. I couldn't yet determine if that meant I was in trouble…or if I was gonna get deeper into her than I'd ever bothered to dream.


	2. Chapter 2

I can usually draw comfort from her presence…unless she's playing at coy and cute. Then I find her a shade past obnoxious. She's perfectly aware of how obvious she's being and knows well that it provokes me. She believes she's psychic but I'm the one with heightened senses whenever she comes around. It won't take her long to move from coquettish tease to downright demanding. She'll want proof beyond a reasonable doubt. I've spent months in a limbo of her making and I'm beyond ready for the big reveal.

She's not entirely cognizant of her surroundings. New Haven is flashing its best goods at her while she's constantly checking out the seat of my pants. I assume she's expecting that the flirty dance of her fingertips against my elbow or the near constant lip biting she's tossing my way will be enough to stir me. To her credit, she comes close several times. I'm never as ready for launch as when I think Rachel Berry has cleared me for takeoff.

It's with a certain twisted pride that I'm as flaccid as she is long-winded when we make it to my dorm. She sits demurely on the edge of my bed as I position myself against the wall at the opposite end of the room. When I show it to her – and judging by our silence and the angle of her eyes on me, it's gonna be soon – I want her to take it all in.

She gestures toward the small window across from me. She can't quite disguise her mirth when she speaks: "A room with a view." She's still vaguely pointing at the window but, again, her gaze has zeroed in on my crotch. Her innuendo is subpar and very nearly cringe-inducing but I don't call her out on it. Something about the way she's sliding the covers down my bed as she shifts upwards against my pillow has me momentarily transfixed. She probably doesn't intend for me to find any of this sexy. Or maybe that's the only thing she intends.

"Let me see." It's a whisper, so hushed I could pretend I never heard her words at all.

She's abruptly shy and it acts as the perfect aphrodisiac for me. She bunches the covers in her hands as I use mine to pull down the zipper of my jeans. I'm already smirking because I'm certain she's long been assuming what I have to offer is small. Little does she know.

My underwear is around my knees before I notice that she doesn't seem flabbergasted or even the least bit stunned. I falter. She catches me with her eyes and I can make out curiosity and the glint of arousal swirling back at me. I'm watching her watch me. I don't hesitate. And I don't hurry.

Her knees come up as she leans closer to me. I'm moving faster. She's spurring me on with each flick of her tongue against her lip.

"Get naked," I grit out. She rewards me with a blush but robs me with a passive shake of her head.

"Why not?" My teeth clack together at the whining tone I've just used on her.

She's shielding herself with the covers and glowering at me. That's the look of many a masturbatory fantasy of mine. I smile at the gift she's given me as I buck into my hand.

I chance it. "Come on, Rachel, get naked!"

"Quinn Fabray, are you even remotely prepared to have a sexual encounter with me? Have you purchased condoms or…wait…have you considered that I might not be ready to have sex with you the _very first time_ we're alone together in a bedroom? Do you think I'm that easy?"

Her words are bullying into me. It's like we're playing duck-duck-goose on the playground and she refuses to tag me. She wants to keep me in my place.

I'm slowing down but I haven't yet stopped. It's not as if I need her permission to at least go it alone, but things would be a lot smoother for me if she'd at least show some interest. She's picking invisible lint off my comforter, feigning indifference to the show I'm pulling off for her. It's clear she actually expects me to answer her questions.

Sighing, I acquiesce, "I've been waiting to have sex with you since we were sophomores, I didn't buy condoms 'cause…uh…I just didn't, okay? And you're more of a prude than you are easy. Satisfied?"

"I'll be satisfied when you manage to stop touching yourself long enough to have a conversation with me."

I'm getting frantic. I speed up. "I think it would be better if you'd at least let me finish. Just…two minutes…"

I let the sentence hang. I'm desperately close. Groaning, she flings herself at me. The covers fly from her body in asymmetrical waves. I'm startled into unbalance. We fall together and land parallel. Her breasts press heavily against my back as she wiggles around in the covers that have cocooned us, instantly reminding me of how hard up I am.

I reach around to help her in her seemingly desperate attempt to remove us from our entanglement. I want her to calm down. Her reaction is entirely too manic. I grasp at her hips and find myself wondering how I managed to grab my own dick instead. The slow-dawning realization that what I'm holding on to now is a lot bigger than what I carry between my legs leaves me slack-jawed.

And limp.


	3. Chapter 3

I consider myself a tolerant, accepting person. I'm an advocate for the misunderstood, really. I've methodically, painstakingly grown into the incongruities that constitute the very core of my being. By a different name in other circumstances and a distant time, my therapist asked Lucy to describe herself in abstract terms. Lucy was resistant to techniques that she found petty and futile. I have matured. I know better.

My life is a series of ever-shifting dominoes, each one standing at attention but close to sagging downward and collapsing over the smallest of matters. I live on that cusp. I make do. I set myself back up when I crumble. Or, since she came loudmouthed and brazen and gorgeous as sin into my world, Rachel has always realigned my pieces. She's kept me rigidly erect, even when tumbling over would have proven easier. Yet she's just toppled the entire structure with one proverbial toss of her hand.

More accurately, it was when I received her package into my own hands that the pieces I'd so cautiously constructed since my transformation from Lucy to Quinn completely rolled away. The cosmos of my existence ravished by her: All the fragments deserting me to join the plethora of bedazzlement that engulfed her and made her irresistible to me, even now. It was mortifyingly overwhelming. It was fucking ludicrous. Fare thee well dominoes, hello brave new, unlabeled world.

My body was stiff except the exact part of me that mattered when alone with the girl who harbored every inch of my affections. Nothing could make me crash land back to my senses as fast as finding out that both she and I drive a stick shift. Only hers is so much larger than mine that she effortlessly shot me out of the sky. I hit the ground a newborn. Left naked and trembling before her. She was going to make me re-learn the basics. She was here to teach me.

I could only manage to sputter out, "Can I get a better look at that…_thing_?" before my voice stalled and my lips pursed tight. Her smile was a melody. Her eyes blazing incandescent as she hummed I've Got You under My Skin. She was still pulsing around my fingers – how very like her to remain hard through my ordeal, she loved a captive audience after all. Gingerly, leisurely lifting the covers to draw out the suspense, her voice suddenly rendered softer as she switched to Trust in Me, Rachel Berry showed her world to me.

I gawked. I squeaked, "I didn't…I mean how is it humanly possible…you're so…so _huge_…it's _insane_."

"Why, Quinn Fabray, you've long underestimated me."

"But…those skirts you're always wearing…_so short_…and this is…honestly…"

She lifted my chin until she had me by the eyes. It was a welcome relief, if not for that unholy smirk she was wearing like victory. I wanted to resort to cruelty. To rewind the tape before she had me by the balls and I was always the one who made her sputter.

"I buy only the highest quality underwear and I'm a master at tucking. It's simple, really."

I lunged at the first word that entered my mind: "Finn!"

"_He's _the person you're thinking about? That's…interesting."

She's playing with me again. Trying to get a rise out of me. "I'm curious as to your virginity. Did you…" I stopped. I could not – _would not_ - entertain that idea.

Her laughter struck me as mocking. "For someone with a penis, you're certainly squeamish. If you want to know if I had sex with Finn, the answer is no. I gave him a hand job, once, but it was more of an experiment than a gratifying sexual experience."

"An experiment?"

She sighed. I was exasperating her. She wanted me to catch up quicker than I was able. "Yes, Quinn, an experiment. I wanted to touch someone with the same parts as me, so I did. I suppose I could have asked Kurt, but that might have been…weird. I'm extremely selective regarding who I tell about my condition."

"And Finn never found out? I find that difficult to believe."

"You've made out with Finn. Tell me, did he ever get you so hot and bothered that you even got a semi?"

I balked at her crudeness. But there was no way I could dispute her. She gave me a quick peck on the lips before dismissing Finn Hudson forever.

"Now, at some point we're going to have to discuss mechanics. Not today, obviously, because you already have a lot to grasp and I am not a sadist."

I frowned. Scavenged for words. Found my voice. "The only mechanics I'll ever talk to you about are the kind who fixes my car."

She ignored me. She knew she had a winning hand, so she kept adding chips to the pot. "Only five minutes of self-pleasuring and you were ready to pop. I'm quite convinced I'm fully able to more than sufficiently pleasure my partner, seeing as how I've practiced my techniques of stamina for years. It's a lot like singing, Quinn. It takes work and ample amounts of dedication. Do you think I was born learning to hold a high note? It's simply about control."

She'd hit a sore spot with me. I've never been able to calm myself enough to last very long. It's a problem that only became harder to correct after I met her. I could be angry at her or apathetic or smitten or despondently in love: The thought of her forever gets me going and pushes me over far quicker than any laws of physics should allow. I slumped further into her, dismayed that she was as erect at this point as ever.

"I don't think that…uh…I'm gonna be able to fit that _thing_ anywhere…and that includes my mouth."

"You're incredibly lucky that I'm an excellent teacher. And I know you're feeling a little inferior right now, but I assure you that you are above average and I'm very much looking forward to our future sexual endeavors."

I was not above querulous childishness when faced with adversity. And I'd never felt so helplessly outwitted and overplayed as now, with Rachel's dick constantly knocking into my hipbone and reminding me of my own shortcomings. "But, Rachel, how do you expect me to compete with that…that…_thing_?"

"First, I ask that you employ proper etiquette and refer to it as my penis, please. And this is not a war. We're on the same side. You need to stop pouting and maybe then you can enjoy the ride."

She cradled me tightly. Swaddled me and rocked us. She sang to me in the voice of a lullaby.

"And I know everything about you.  
I don't wanna live without you.  
I'm only up when you're not down.  
Don't wanna fly if you're still on the ground."

Jerking slightly away from her, I fisted as much of her as possible and grinned when she groaned. She wrapped her hand around my wrist and guided me. I stopped long enough to whisper seductively, threateningly into her ear.

"I'll be the best learner in all the land, but if you sing Taylor Swift again, I'll never go near your _thing_ so long as we both shall live."

***The End***

**AN: This is just a silly little something that came about due to – of course – a Twitter conversation. You know who you are that asked what would happen if they both had g!ps. I credit you with the idea and the inspiration. You're all kinds of great. **

**I've Got You under My Skin is a Frank Sinatra song. Trust in Me is an Etta James song. The Taylor Swift lyrics I used are from the song I'm Only Me When I'm with You. I've never actually listened to the song. **


End file.
